Reflection
by Silverbellsb
Summary: He wanted – he needed – something much more than a crown, money, or anything else the material world had to offer. This was something he'd wished for, longed for even back in the orphanage. A treasure that he'd turned his back on for gold.


**Hiya, people!**

**OMG, I squealed when I saw all the awesome reviews I've been getting in this Tangled area! THANKS, GUYS! LOVE YA!**

**Okay, since I think I know how to write humor and friendship stories, I think I'll try a kind of angsty, hurt/comfort (though nix on the comfort part) story. Ta-da! It's Flynn reflecting on how he's completely lost!**

**I know, I know… I'm so original. :P meh, it'll do. It's probably not really well written, cause it was just an idea that popped into my head after watching the Princess and the Frog movie… personally I loved it! I wonder why some people say it's dull compared to Tangled… to me, they both stand on their own. You can't really compare the two 'cause the stories are so different. PatF focused on a girl who's worked hard all her life to achieve her most beloved dream, while Tangled is more about how this girl wants her dream more than anything – it's just out of reach.**

**The elements are really quite different, if you think about it. Okay, I'm done ranting… I'm sorry! Hope your brain hasn't been sucked dry. Now, where was I?**

**Oh, yeah. This idea came from watching PatF, so you might see a reference or two… don't worry, I didn't copy anything outright. Just read it, and tell me what y'all think! (BTW, I don't own Tangled – if I did, Rapunzel would still have long hair!) **

**_"It's so easy to make believe;_**

**_Seems you're living in a dream._**

**_Don't you see that what you need is standing in front of you?"_**

- **Something That I Want **

O*O*O*O

Flynn Rider was a dead man.

If anyone – even a lousy peasant – caught him doing this, he'd be the equivalent of a duck about to face the butcher's block.

He inched into the clearing in the middle of the woods. Above him, the trees swept their foliage against the velvet night sky. There were no clouds tonight. Around him, the forest was asleep but for the faint rustle of the breeze through the leaves. And somewhere, far away, were the Stabbington Brothers, somewhere revising final plans for a crown the three of them were supposed to steal the next morning.

Instead of feeling the pleasant thrill he usually got whenever they planned something really big, his stomach was tied in knots. He found himself lost in thought and tugging at his hair, something he did only when he was on the verge of falling apart.

He felt so completely helpless. What had become of him, he wondered. When had he become so brash, so bold, so heartless, enough to even consider stealing the lost princess's crown? It seemed as though some days he loved this life of adventure, running from guards and going on wild romps through across the kingdom, yet on other days he wanted nothing more than to _stop._

He wanted to start over.

And yet, even as those thoughts gnawed at him, he didn't even try. He didn't know how. A small corner of him wanted to change, but didn't even know where to start. How was it even possible to erase eight years full of thieving, petty crimes, picking pockets, fraud, and living in a lie?

Fact: he was not Eugene Fitzherbert. Eugene was weak, timid, and defenseless even from the bullies at the orphanage, without an inch of self-confidence in him.

Also a fact: he was not Flynn Rider. At least, during these moments, he was not. Flynn Rider was someone bold and confident and strong, as inevitable as a force of nature but equally subtle. He was admittedly arrogant, a display he'd put on when his courage began to slip. Over time, he'd begun to believe his own lies, his own false identity.

He didn't want to be Eugene Fitzherbert, but he simply couldn't be Flynn Rider for much longer now.

He didn't know who he was anymore.

He noticed that he was nervously biting the tip of his thumb, something he hadn't done in a long time. The reason for his nerves wasn't about whether he wanted to steal the crown or not. Nor was it about the choices he made in life. It played a part, but no, that was not the main reason.

The truth was, although he might have had a dashing appearance, determination of steel, and the freedom of a lark, inside, he was unstable. Hollow. Empty.

He wanted – he _needed_ – something much more than a crown, money, or anything else the material world had to offer. This was something he'd wished for,_ longed_ for even back in the orphanage. A treasure that he'd turned his back on for gold.

He wanted love. He wanted to love someone, he wanted to _be_ loved, he wanted that empty space inside him to be filled up. If only he were like bit of glass, perfectly clear so that the world could see that he wanted to change but didn't know where to start, and that he had hopes and dreams and sorrows just like everyone else. If only people could see what he had gone through as an orphan, all the years of being beaten down and caged emotionally. If only people could see that what he really wanted was something deeper.

If only he could find someone – anyone – who loved him.

If only.

He glanced around. Moonlight bathed the world in a soft, almost magical sheen reserved for the stars of the sky.

The stars. Exactly why he was here.

Looking up, he saw the constellations glimmering down at him. He remembered how, years ago, he'd spent hours lying on his back trying to count the stars – before innocence died.

His whispered words were caught on a draft that blew out into the night, where they might reach the ears of the stars. "Please, please, please… I want everyone to know I'm sorry…"

He noticed that he was gripping a tree for support, leaning against it, willing himself to calm down. For a moment, it was just him and the stars, alone in the moonlit clearing. For a moment, he was neither Eugene Fitzherbert nor Flynn Rider, but someone in between. For a moment, he was as light as a moonbeam as he let his wish slip out, a silent plea addressed to the celestial sky. For a moment, he was somewhere else, until he heard the footsteps of heavy Stabbington boots behind him and he became Flynn Rider once more.

O*O*O*O

**So, there you have it! I'm actually happy with the way this came out. I hope you like it as much as I do and that this was worth your time. :)**

**I'm guessing this has raised a question or two, such as, "Geez, Silverbells! What'd you do to Flynn? Everyone knows that when he's Flynn, he's Flynn, and when he's Eugene, he's Eugene! How can there be an in-between? This sounds a LOT like Eugene, anyway – why didn't you say so outright?"**

**Yeah…um, about that…**

**See, I figured that there'd be times when Flynn feels really bad about what he's done but he's still in denial – he doesn't want to be Eugene. Some people label Flynn as the arrogant, selfish side and Eugene as the sweet hero... I'm in limbo, kind of. I think Flynn has those slip-up moments when he can play the rouge and the hero. He just has to choose which.**

**Now some people out there are probably grumbling that I'm not a Eugene fan. I am, really! I love it when he's all nice and sweet! Rapunzel-promise! It's just the name that I think I'm in a disagreement with. I just think Flynn suits him way better. Don't kill me!**

**Okay, complaints aside, I'd love your feedback (no flames, please). Criticism is a big help, although I'd prefer you don't pound my story into the dirt. Agreed?**

**Woo! Okay, then, click on the review button-thingie and comment!**

**Peace!**

**Silverbells**


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